


In The Darkness of Your Heart (a Sleep Peacefully remix)

by ineedsomecyanide



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Arguing, Atmospheric, Established Relationship, Internal Monologue, M/M, Making Up, Missing Scene, Moodboards, POV Valjean, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedsomecyanide/pseuds/ineedsomecyanide
Summary: Valjean navigates his anxieties and fears after a fight with Javert.
Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28
Collections: Sewerchat Solstice Exchange 2019





	1. In The Darkness of Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Masterofthebarricade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterofthebarricade/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sleep Peacefully](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610297) by [Masterofthebarricade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterofthebarricade/pseuds/Masterofthebarricade). 



> Happy Solstice! I hope I did your fic justice with my humble remix and moodboards, I hope you like them!
> 
> (The sentence in italics is taken from the original fic).

They had fought before, countless times: from small quarrels over the breakfast table, when Javert was stressed by work and could get annoyed by any small detail that was out of place, and Valjean responded in fashion, to broader, deeper arguments on philosophy, morality and religion. But they had always made peace soon enough, sometimes with heartfelt apologies, sometimes with embraces and kisses.

So why did Valjean feel so bad now? An awkward silence had fallen in the room, like it had not happened in years. In Valjean’s stomach, that muddy, slimy feeling of trepidation, despair and fear that had come to him in prison and never left him afterwards. Javert had gone to bed, he could have joined him, apologised, and everything would have been alright in the morning. But his fear had been quicker than his rational thoughts, and a moment after he had sprinted outside, hardly noticing it and barely remembering to take his own coat.

What to do now? He could have gone back inside, and pretended that nothing had happened, but that traitorous, gloomy feeling was already infusing in his mind the dangerous notion that Javert would have never wanted anything to do with him again.

He had resolved to wander off in the dimly lit streets of Paris. In that moment, his footsteps were the only ones echoing among the towering walls that surrounded him. The gas lights gave the cobbled alleyways a crepuscular impression, that reminded Valjean of the tales of faeries and will-o'-the-wisps that he had heard in what felt like another life. Wilted flowers on the windowsills looked the most beautiful that they had ever been in the moonlight. Mostly of the windows that he passed by were dark, but in other ones the candlelight was shining, and told him about a domesticity and familiarity that he could have been experiencing in that very moment, and that he felt he could not anymore.

Suddenly more light, laughter and loud voices: he had come to a café that him and Javert had attended a few times, the most memorable one a Christmas when they had drank a little too much and Javert had almost declared his affection there, in public. The fond memory made Valjean suppress a chuckle and forget the argument for a moment. Oh, how much he loved that man! And thinking that now everything was ruined...

He had moved into the darkness again, but a faint cry gathered his attention and stopped his weeping: a young woman, nursing her baby by candlelight, by her window.

In this moment, his muffled rational thoughts said that what he needed was his angel, his beacon of light, Cosette; just seeing her would have made him feel better, of that he was sure. He hoped that her and her husband were still awake.

* * *

Cosette could not heal his wounded heart completely, but her presence, her clever mind and a cup of tea  were like a  balm . Valjean left with his cup of tea to go to the garden, his safe place; Cosette had hugged him and reassured him that everything would be solved by the morning, but even with all the love he bore for her, his mind was telling him that she was wrong.

So, when he saw  Javert appearing in the garden, hair mussed and coat buttoned  askew , he that was always so careful and neat with his appearance, with a worried frown painted on his face, Valjean wept tears of relief.

That gloomy and cowardly feeling was swept away by the mere presence of the man he loved, a silent testament of the fact that the malicious feeling in his gut was wrong, had always been wrong, and Javert would not abandon him over a trivial argument.

His grey hair shone in the moonlight, giving him an otherworldly quality that he did not possess normally. Or maybe it was only Valjean’s agitated state , that was dredging up his memories of faerie courts and spirits that dwelled in cemeteries.

They talked, but those were harsher words than Valjean had imagined; angrier and more defensive. No one said what they really meant, and their words hurt more than they had imagined.

Even back at home, they could not reconcile right away – the passing hours had made the silence louder and the pain sourer, instead of lessening it. Valjean wanted to say something,  anything , but his excuses were stuck in his throat, and any other trivial thing sounded meaningless.

_”Forget it, ” Javert laughed bitterly, ”forget my concern, I am going to bed. Good night Valjean.”_

The room was warmed by the fire, but it never felt so cold, and the glow of the candles never felt so unkind, stripping  bare their untold truths.

* * *

In the end, it was Valjean who gathered his inner courage (that that slimy anxious feeling had shrunk to a small marble) and apologised first, and then his old instincts had prevailed, and he had run away, too ashamed, not of his apology, but of the fact that it had taken him so much to utter words so simple. Javert had all the rights to not accept them and move on with his life.

* * *

Javert had always preferred actions to words, and so it was by actions that he chose to apologise this time too. Touches and kisses, and Valjean was overwhelmed by the relief and by how much he had already missed Javert’s embraces.

That cowardly, gloomy feeling was gone for good.

* * *

Hours later, they were still laying on the couch, in each other’s arms. Javert had fallen asleep on Valjean’s shoulder, and Valjean did not dare to move and risk to wake him up, so he had wrapped his arms around the sleeping frame draped on him, and was caressing his hair softly.   
The candles that were illuminating the room had burned out long ago, and there were only embers left in the fireplace. The moonlight pooled on the floor and on the walls (with everything that had happened that night, they had forgotten to close the blinds), and gave everything a gentle silvery sheen.   
Valjean thought that he had never felt so at peace before.


	2. Moodboards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made moodboards inspired by Sleeping Peacefully too, because why not?

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> P.s: I also made a mini playlist inspired by your fic! You can find it on [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvPLf6FkbE_vl92evIqvfhA_lIMdwh0D5).


End file.
